Klaus stretched his arms wide until his joints popped, then let them fall back to his sides with an exaggerated sigh. Dust stirred around his boots, drifting through the ruined battlefield where the smell of scorched mana still clung stubbornly to the air.
"Well," he said lightly, as if they had just finished a casual chat instead of negotiating with a duke and a walking threat, "that went… better than expected."
Shane glanced at him from the corner of his eye. His face was calm, almost blank, yet his gaze lingered just a second too long—as if weighing Klaus rather than his words.
"You enjoy pushing people too far," Shane said.
Klaus grinned, unbothered.
"Only the ones who can afford it."
He turned away before Shane could respond and slipped a hand into his ring. The movement was casual, but Shane noticed the shift in mana immediately. Klaus pulled out a scroll and flicked it once between his fingers. The parchment looked old—far older than it should have been—its surface veined with dark lines that pulsed faintly, like something alive breathing beneath the ink.
Without ceremony, Klaus tossed it toward Shane.
"Here," he said. "Another pet of yours."
Shane caught it reflexively. The moment his fingers touched the scroll, a faint chill crawled up his arm. He frowned and activated his skill.
"Merchant's Appraisal."
His eyes narrowed as the information unfolded before him.
"…A Familiar Binding Contract?" he said, disbelief slipping into his voice.
Klaus leaned back against a broken slab of stone, folding his arms.
"Found it among the loot," he said. "Figured you'd make better use of it than I would. I already have enough things trying to kill me. I don't need another one trying to eat me."
Shane didn't comment. He tore open the seal carefully, as if one wrong move might cause the scroll to bite back. Then he bit his thumb, letting a drop of blood fall onto the parchment. The scroll reacted instantly, glowing faintly as Shane pressed his bloodied thumb down in a firm fingerprint.
The ground beneath his feet lit up.
A circular magic array spread outward, lines interlocking with precise symmetry. The air hummed softly. From the center of the array, a shape began to rise—first large, black, pointed ears, then a pair of glowing purple eyes.
The figure fully emerged with a soft flutter.
It was… small.
A bat-like creature hovered in the air, its head almost as large as its body. Its fur was a mix of black and deep brown, its wings short and rounded rather than sharp or menacing. It looked less like a terror of the night and more like something that belonged on a child's shoulder.
The creature tilted its head, studying Shane with open curiosity.
A thin golden thread appeared, stretching between them.
Shane spoke calmly, his voice steady.
"From now on," he said, "you will be called Cukuz."
The bat squeaked softly and flapped forward, landing clumsily on Shane's shoulder. The magic array dimmed, then vanished completely, leaving only faint scorch marks on the ground.
Shane lifted a hand and gently patted Cukuz's head.
"Stay there for now," he said. "I'll prepare a comfortable ring for you later."
Cukuz let out a tiny shriek that sounded suspiciously like agreement.
Klaus watched the scene with mild amusement, though his attention drifted inward. During the negotiation with the Keepers, he had already made his choice. Among the copied skills available to him, one had stood out.
Eye of the Forsaken.
A powerful perception skill that predicted enemy movement through posture and micro-motions. Dangerous, precise—and limited. At level ten, its effective range was barely two and a half meters. Close enough to matter. Close enough to be fatal. Great for close combat, almost ineffective for long-range combat.
Klaus suddenly clenched his chest.
"—gh."
He staggered half a step, pressing a hand against himself. A faint burning sensation spread across his skin. He pulled his hand away and saw it—a small mark seared into his chest. A crescent shape, with three claw-like marks carved inside.
A familiar chime echoed in his mind.
"Cursed egg successfully embedded."
Klaus blinked.
"…What the hell."
He read the description quickly, his brow furrowing deeper with each line.
"This egg contains a curse hatchling. The curse's attribute will depend on the host. It will consume a small portion of the host's health over time until it hatches."
He exhaled sharply.
"Reduced health over time," he muttered. "That's not a curse. That's a real curse that's killing me slowly."
Shane noticed the shift immediately. He turned, eyes narrowing.
"Is something wrong?"
Klaus looked up.
"I've got a curse."
Shane paused, then frowned—not in concern, but frustration.
"Lucky bastard," he said. "I've wanted one for years. Curses aren't easy to acquire, and only a handful of people even have them."
He studied Klaus. "What's its attribute?"
"It doesn't have one yet," Klaus replied. "Still an egg."
Shane opened his mouth to respond—
A notification appeared in his status window.
His expression softened into a small, satisfied smile.
"Looks like they finished their job quicker than I expected."
Before he could say more, another notification appeared.
His smile vanished.
"…Zevy," Shane said sharply. "Come out."
The hawk materialized in front of him in a flash of light.
"Viral Modification," Shane ordered.
Zevy glowed, his body expanding rapidly. Feathers shimmered gold as his form grew, stretching and solidifying until a massive hawk—nearly three meters tall—stood before them, wings flexing powerfully.
Shane mounted swiftly and glanced at Klaus.
"We have a situation."
His eyes flicked briefly to Cukuz.
"Hang on, buddy. This'll be a bumpy ride."
"Zevy," Shane said. "East."
The hawk took off like a cannon shot, wind tearing across the battlefield as they vanished toward the rest of the party.
Klaus stared after them, then sighed deeply.
"Can't I even get a proper rest?" he muttered. "I'm just a side character here."
He activated Phantom Jump and disappeared in a blur of motion, chasing after Shane—because, trouble clearly wasn't done with them yet.